Operation Womble….”the cleanup!”

The front door looked like it had seen better days. It stood between us and the reason for our being there. A solid looking brown, battered barrier with the remains of a door bell hanging from its centre. This was not going to be a three tap knock…this was going to be the big hello from the teams battering ram named “Avon” after the famous door sellers of yesteryear.

The unit took up positions either side of the door, others were around the back to prevent any escape from this council house on this estate in this town. The same sort of council house on any estate in any town in the U.K. Rubbish littered the sorry excuse for a garden. Some would have tried to pass it off as Chav art, whilst most saw it for what it was…a shit tip!

A quick check on equipment and comms was followed by the signal to “open” the door. A silent countdown was given…a black gloved hand curled down its fingers until no more could be seen…the door shuddered with a resounding boom and a splintering crack as the iron battering ram smashed into the lock. The early morning peace was gone, shattered by the three blows it took to dislodge the door from its frame.

“Go, Go, Go!” earpieces came alive with the command to get into the house and dominate it from the outset. Figures in black, armed with batons and large powerful torches, rushed into the hallway. Two ran up the stairs three steps at a time, another two headed for the living room directly in front whilst a further two shadowy figures dived into the kitchen to the left of the hallway.

Shouts of “Room clear!” resounded around the house. The team gathered downstairs and collected their thoughts as they looked around them. It was a mess, a hovel, a chaotic pretense at being a home. Everywhere empty bottles of cider and Lambrini struggled for space against the masses of half eaten take away cartons and discarded cigarette ends. The shit tip of a garden looked better than the inside of this once habitable abode.

Our reason for being there….was not there! “Bollocks!”…Shuggsie, the newest member of the team, muttered beneath his nomex fire retardant balaclava. I make a mental note to have a word at the de-brief with Shuggsie to tell him not to put his balaclava on back to front next time! A more dependable team member you could not find…but he was also thick!

“So wheres the little shit gone?” piped up Fingers, so called after an unfortunate accident with a tin of Spam and those fiddly key things. We looked around and soon found the incriminating evidence that had brought us here. “Sat Navs”…stolen from so many ambulances within this area. Also found was a green Paramedic bag, snatched from the back of a vehicle whilst the crew attended a patient with chest pains. Other various items that had been nicked from ambulances turned up behind the sofa.

“Right. If hes not here lets wreck the joint and teach the scumbag a lesson!” We all look around again… trying to find something to smash…but how can we make this place any worse than what it already is? I walk over to the 42″ wide screen plasma t.v. with Dolby surround sound, the only piece of kit in good order. A devilish thought crosses my mind. I turn on the t.v. and pump up the volume to an ear shattering crescendo and then adjust the brightness and contrast to its minimum. I then turn off the t.v. leaving it on standby.

With our quarry missing and the chance for violent retribution against some Chav pondscum, we file out of the house and disappear into the side streets making our way to the “Paraffin Parrot” for the debrief. Looks like we will have to make do with a training session at the local fleapit and watch “Hot Fuzz”….again! Shuggsie is going to open the fire exit door round the back of the cinema to let us in without paying!

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